


all I have

by casdoms (moffwithhishead)



Series: season 10 codas [15]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Episode Tag, Episode: s10e23 My Brother's Keeper, Kinda, M/M, Panic Attacks, cas gets dean food, mentions of 10.22 library scene, mentions of Charlie - Freeform, mentions of crypt scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-23
Updated: 2015-05-23
Packaged: 2018-03-31 22:10:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,910
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3994765
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moffwithhishead/pseuds/casdoms
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“The Darkness,” Dean nods.</p><p>“The Darkness,” Cas echoes flatly, looking wholly unimpressed. “<b><i>The</i></b> Darkness.”</p><p>Dean looks up at the other man for the first time since the conversation started and squints a little, “Does that have a trademark thing at the end of it?” </p><p>“Jokes?” Cas asks with a raised eyebrow before huffing a little bit under his breath, not completely unkindly, “He has jokes.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	all I have

**Author's Note:**

> please forgive me for glossing over how sam and dean got back to the bunker but let's just all assume that they realized they can still drive in The Darkness. 
> 
> mentions charlie, dean has a panic attack, there's food. do I have to warn for food in a fic?

_If I am to rip open my soul for you, then I hope you will plant something_  
_worth growing in me; for I am fragile and I have known too much pain to suffer anymore_. 

 

* * *

 

 

“So,” Dean sighs and runs a hand through his hair, trying not to flinch when he doesn’t see the Mark on his arm, “That’s - that’s pretty much it.” 

Castiel stares at him for a solid minute before he actually says anything, “So Death told you about the Darkness... you almost killed Sam but  _instead,_  you...  _killed_   _Death_. And then the spell Rowena did worked and the Mark was gone. And then...”

“The Darkness,” Dean nods.

“The Darkness,” Cas echoes flatly, looking wholly unimpressed. “ _The_  Darkness.”

Dean looks up at the other man for the first time since the conversation started and squints a little, “Does that have a trademark thing at the end of it?” 

“Jokes?” Cas asks with a raised eyebrow before huffing a little bit under his breath, not completely unkindly, “He has  _jokes_.” 

The angel rubs a hand over his face for a moment and sighs, looking up at the ceiling in Dean’s room like it might have all the answers he’s been looking for. Maybe it does.

“Bright side...” Dean ventures quietly, smiling sheepishly at Cas, “Crowley’s dead?” 

“Yes,” Cas concedes after a moment but doesn’t move his eyes away from the ceiling, “This is true.”

Dean fidgets on the bed and groans after a few beats, covering his face with his hands, “God, Cas, just tell it to me straight, okay? How bad is this? How bad did Sam fuck up?” 

“Well,” Castiel sighs and looks back at Dean again, “I’m not sure if there is a way to quantify the gravity of the situation for you. I would say that this is akin to dropping thousands of atomic bombs all over the earth but to be completely frank, that is grossly underestimating the damage this could do.” 

Dean groans loudly and flops back onto his bed, silently beating himself up for letting this happen, “How many people?” 

The silence that answers him should be a sufficient enough answer but eventually Cas sighs and moves to sit on the edge of the bed, “I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?” He moves his arm just enough so he can give Cas an indignant look, “The hell do you mean you don’t  _know_?” 

“Well,” Cas gives him what can only be described as a ‘bitch face,’ “The last time my siblings and I had to deal with The Darkness there was no life on this planet, Dean. So excuse me if I can’t give you an estimate on the total human causalities this will cause.” 

A noise that can only be described as a whine escapes Dean and he rolls over to hide his face in a pillow, “We’re fucked.” 

“Essentially, yes.” 

“Remind me not to put you in charge of team morale,” Dean grumbles into the pillow.

Castiel huffs but doesn’t say anything and doesn’t move either.

They just sit there in silence for a few minutes, Dean getting more anxious by the second over - well. Shit, over everything, really.

He has no idea what to say.

What do you say when you almost kill your best friend and the guy you’ve been in love with for years?

Do you apologize? It doesn’t feel like enough, it doesn’t feel like there are enough words in the english language - or in  _any_  language, really - to accurately express the extent to which he is sorry.

Telling Cas “I never wanted to hurt you, I can’t even look in the mirror without feeling nauseous, I understand if you never want to see me again, I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry,” seems unfair to him.

If he knows Cas at all, and he does, he’ll try to tell Dean that it wasn’t his fault, that his apology isn’t needed, that he’s forgiven.

He doesn’t  _want_  to be forgiven.

There’s a part of him - a ridiculous, desperate and immature part - that wants to say that this means they’re even. They both beat the shit out of each other when they weren’t really themselves but that’s - that’s not right. It’s not fair. And it’s not true. 

Because Dean? The Mark was driving him with the anger thrumming in his veins, sure, but he was still there, he was still lucid and he let it go as far as it did. His feelings might’ve been driven by the Mark but he had still been in control of his body.

The Crypt - Dean feels his stomach flip uneasily again - was all Naomi. Cas’s actions were being driven by her, literally. 

They could always do the sequel of that clusterfuck and never, ever talk about it again but the thing is? Cas is  _here_. He’s sitting less than two feet away, close enough to touch.

Dean can’t run away. Cas can’t run away.

Even if they wanted to, the Darkness is out there and it’s swallowing everything. Not even Cas knows for sure what the hell it does because it was defeated before the other angels - before Castiel, who is older than the Earth itself, was created. 

 _God_ , they’re so completely and wholly fucked.

The thought startles a loud, slightly hysterical laugh out of Dean.

It echoes in the cement walls of his room and bounces back at him from all angles. Cas is staring at him with cautious eyes, like Dean is a deer who has wandered into the road and he’s trying not to scare him away.

“Dean,” he starts carefully, “Are you...?” 

“This,” Dean manages to get out in between fits of giggles, “Jesus fucking  _Christ_ , Cas. This is just -” He snorts and rolls over onto his back before covering his face with his hands, “We are so fucked. We are so completely and royally fucked it’s - it’s actually hysterical.” 

Castiel blinks at him owlishly, which just makes Dean laugh harder, “I’m not sure what’s so funny about this.” 

Dean laughs until there’s tears rolling down his cheeks and his sides ache from it, “Holy shit.” It’s so ridiculous and left field and  _profoundly_  unfunny that it’s actually hysterical.

He keeps laughing until he can’t anymore, until it hurts too much and he can barely breathe.

The tears don’t stop, though, and Dean realizes he’s crying. 

He’s laying on his bed crying in the middle of the day with his best friend slash kinda-ex slash an actual angel of the fucking lord watching him.

Cas, bless his everything, doesn’t say anything. He just hands Dean a tissue.

He’s not really sure why he’s crying, if he’s being honest.

Yeah, he’s scared shitless. And yeah, there’s a weird and confusing swirl of emotions happening inside him right now that he has no idea how to process.

And he’s  _angry_. 

He’s angry with Sam for - so, so many things. He’s angry with himself - blindingly furious, actually. He’s mad at the world, at God, at his fucking life for being such a monumental shit show. 

And he’s so completely heartbroken that he hurt Cas, that he hurt Sam. The full loss of Charlie hits him like a 18-wheeler and he can barely breathe through the onslaught of grief and anger. 

Two years of repressing, of dark thoughts, of nightmares hits him at once. 

The tears cross over into a panic attack and shit, he can’t breathe. 

He feels a hand on his shoulder and flinches involuntarily but lets himself be pulled up into a sitting position. 

Cas’ voice is quiet and soothing, even though it sounds a million miles away.

“Through lateral line organs, sharks can feel waves of pressure with the sensitivity of a physical touch and detect the movement of an object.”

It’s - it’s something he does. Has done.

Does it when Dean’s desperate and he calls.

It’s only happened a handful of times in the last couple months, but it helps. Cas talking, telling Dean about animals or history or just stupid facts that aren’t relevant, it... it helps.

It gives his brain something to think about. 

“Houseflies actually - the buzzing that you hear? It’s in the key of F. It doesn’t matter the situation they’re in, it’s constantly on key.”

He makes a noise that’s supposed to be a laugh but it comes out as another sob. He’s shaking a little bit less now, though, which is good. An improvement.

And this continues until Dean can breathe again, until he’s gone still and it takes every ounce of effort he has left in him to keep his eyes open and himself awake.

Cas maneuvers him so Dean’s laying down on the bed. He doesn’t fight it, and Cas doesn’t move to join him. 

He sniffles a little, sounding nothing short of pathetic, and curls close to the body heat radiating off of Cas.

He’s exhausted in every way he can be, so he reaches out and grabs a handful of Cas’ coat. Sue him, okay?

“Stay,” Dean mumbles into the pillow.

Cas doesn’t answer him, but he feels a hand run through his hair as he falls asleep. 

 

* * *

 

When he wakes up, he’s alone.

He groans quietly as he pushes himself upright, his neck sore from sleeping on his stomach. His whole body is sore from last night, from the last two years really, and he just feels - drained. Numb.

Dean swings his feet over the side of the bed so he’s sitting up and rubs a hand over his face. 

For the first time in months he’s genuinely hungry - starving, actually - and when he checks his phone and sees that he slept a good eighteen hours, that starts to make sense. 

His boots were taken off at some point and his feet are a little cold when he steps off of the rug.

The first thing he does is go to the bathroom, do his business and wash his face. It’s dinner time so he’ll be brushing his teeth soon anyway and he doesn’t bother. 

It’s not like there’s any sugar on his teeth anyway. 

Then he changes into some gym shorts, a clean t-shirt and a hoodie before wandering out into the hallway.

Sam’s bedroom door is closed, but that’s not surprising. The silence, though - that’s a little bit unexpected. 

“Fucking angel,” he grumbles to himself and rubs his hair.

The library and the main room are empty too, or at the very least quiet, so Dean sighs and heads into the kitchen without bothering to see if anybody’s home.

He doesn’t really feel like talking, anyway. 

Most of the food in the fridge is close to going bad, or already bad, so he grabs the bowl of pasta that isn’t  _too_  old. 

If he didn’t feel so drained, he would try cooking something with it. Some chicken, maybe, or some of the breakfast sausage they’ve got.

He doesn’t bother heating it up, just sits down at the table and starts digging in.

He gets up at one point and gets himself a cup of water. When he finishes the pasta and is still hungry, he digs out a tub of ice cream from the bottom of the freezer. 

Dean starts making his way back to his room and walks, very literally, right into Cas. 

He stumbles back, blinking in surprise, and when he looks up, Cas is smiling cautiously at him.

He holds up a brown paper bag in one hand, and a milkshake in the other, “I got you food. I figured that you would be hungry.” 

Dean blurts out the first thing that his brain comes up with, “You went out?”

Castiel chuckles a little, ducking his head sheepishly, “I... may have used my, uh...” He smiles up at Dean, “I believe you call it my ‘mojo.’” 

“You got me food,” Dean repeats dumbly. 

“I did,” Cas nods, unbothered.

“I -” Dean sets the ice cream down on something next to him, not sure what the hell it even is, “I - I almost killed you.” 

Castiel nods, his smile faltering for a second, “Yes.” 

“I hurt you,” Dean repeats, “And you stole me food.” 

The angel’s cheeks turn a little bit pink and he shifts on his feet awkwardly, “I didn’t  _steal_  it.” 

“Cas,” Dean takes a step towards him and reaches a hand out but drops it after a beat, “You... you got me food.” 

Castiel sets the food down on the table that Dean did (and oh, did Sam put that there?), gives his friend a dubious look, “Should I not have?” 

“No,” Dean says a little too quickly before shaking his head, “I - Yes. You should - you shouldn’t -” 

He shouldn’t be trying to help Dean. He shouldn’t even be talking to him, he shouldn’t be  _near_  him. He shouldn’t be in the same state as him, in the same country even. 

“Dean,” Cas’ voice is quiet as he sets a hand on the other man’s wrist for a moment, long enough to ground him before he lets go, “I don’t...” He frowns after a moment, like he’s trying to figure out the right way to say something really, really important. 

“I don’t...  _blame_  you,” he says carefully, keeping his tone neutral. “I am... hurt, I suppose is the right word. I would be lying if I said that I was completely unbothered by... what happened. But I don’t  _blame_  you. I am not...” 

He stands up straighter and steels himself, “I am not angry with you, Dean.” 

“You should be,” Dean stutters after a few beats of silence, his heart feeling like it’s going to fly out of his chest at any second. 

“Perhaps,” Castiel smiles tiredly, shrugs, “Perhaps you should be angry with me.”

“I am,” he blurts out before shaking his head, “I mean - I was. I - I don’t know?”

Castiel chuckles, rubs a hand over the back of his neck nervously, “That’s... I suppose that’s good. You and I have been through...” 

“A lot,” Dean finishes for him.

The answering smile makes Dean’s chest ache.

“Yes,” Castiel nods, “Quite a lot.” 

He takes a step closer to Dean as his smile softens, his eyes kind, “And we will discuss those things one day. But today... today we have burgers. We are both alive. You are without the Mark. Crowley is dead.”

“But,” Dean almost sputters, “The - The Darkness.” 

“Is not going anywhere,” Castiel reminds him gently, “And neither one of us knows how to fight it right now. So...” 

He carefully takes Dean’s hand in his and squeezes it, “I was hoping today we could eat burgers and watch a movie.”

“Cas,” Dean hates how raw his voice sounds, “I can’t...” 

Just letting Cas touch him like this, their palms pressed together without their fingers tangled, is making him nauseous. He can’t - he can’t imagine doing anything with Cas. Even just sharing a sofa right now feels unfair to ask of Cas.

Unfair to ask of himself. 

“Dean,” Cas lets out a breath and squeezes his hand one more time before dropping it, “I don’t - I just want... to be with you. Not - not doing anything. Just... being. Existing in the same space.”

It almost makes him want to laugh because it’s so easy, so simple, but Dean’s entire being aches with the want to do just that. 

“I’m not going to ask you to do anything that you’re uncomfortable with,” he continues, rubbing at the back of his neck again. “I just...” 

“Yeah,” Dean interrupts him before he can say anything else, “Yeah.”

Cas’ lips quirk up in a small, pleased smile as he nods, “Oh.” 

They both laugh nervously but Dean grabs the food from the table and Cas follows him to the TV room they’d set up.

There’s a couch that’s big and overstuffed, and Dean settles in at one end, letting Cas have the other. They turn on the TV and it’s a tie between who’s more surprised that the satellite is still working. 

They don’t say anything, except when Cas asks if he can finish the fries that Dean doesn’t want. 

It’s - it’s not comfortable, exactly. 

There’s still too much between them, too much hanging over them for it to be normal but it’s not - it’s not  _un_ comfortable. 

Dean looks at Cas out of the corner of his eyes, smiling when he sees his best friend laughing at the sitcom he’d put on. His heart stutters for a moment with the force of how much he loves this man, this being, sitting across from him, and a new wave of nausea rolls over him at the same time.

Maybe because the Mark’s gone it’s easier for Cas to read him again, because he turns his head and smiles kindly at Dean.

Yeah...

There’s a literal cloud of Darkness hanging over them, over the entire world, and they’ve got their own stuff to work out. A lot of stuff, a lot of things to bring up again and forgive each other for (hopefully). 

But in that moment, there’s absolutely no doubt in his mind that they’re going to be okay. 

They’ll be okay.

 

* * *

 

So prove me wrong, show me that beauty   
can be found in the midst of wreckage and recovery.  
Find in me something that no one else has,  
guide me to a place that is safe,  
a place that I can call home;  
take my hand, and never let go.

 

B. LaBerge // [Unwritten Letters to You](http://tblaberge.tumblr.com/post/109730605376/if-i-am-to-rip-open-my-soul-for-you-then-i-hope)

**Author's Note:**

> find me at meardmish on tumblr


End file.
